


Taxes and Shit

by asocialconstruct



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, some past angst but not angst centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's first kiss since 1945.  Smut fluff with a little past angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taxes and Shit

Sam does not get butterflies.  Sam does not get butterflies because Sam is a grown ass man who does not get nervous before dates.  Sam is a grown ass man who pays taxes and shit and does not get butterflies before dates.

“Yes, mom, he’s cute.”Sam is a grown ass man who calls his mother every weekend and this one has somehow managed to go off the rails right before said date.“Look, ma, I gotta go, he’s picking me up any second.What?Yeah, he’s military, but he’s not active duty, I learned my lesson—yes, I’ll text you when I get home, but I’m pretty sure this one isn’t an axe murderer.Love you too.”

The phone buzzes as he hangs up, and Sam is a grown ass man who gets butterflies when Captain Goddamn America texts “ _here :)_ ” because while Same doesn’t get nervous before dates, “do you want to get a beer” is not clearly a date or not a date but straight men don’t text each other smiley faces or pick each other up on goddamn vintage motorcycles, but maybe they did in the forties.Sam never paid much attention in history and anyway the answer is sitting outside in his driveway in a leather jacket and dad jeans while Sam hops into his shoes.

“Hey,” Steve says, super casual as Sam practically falls over himself closing the front door and that’s—yeah, Sam never thought he’d be into guys with motorcycles, let alone white boys with motorcycles, but—yeah.

“Hey,” Sam manages.Super casual.Totally chill.No butterflies.

“Ready?” Steve asks as Sam settles on the bike behind him, and straight guys don’t smile like that when they’ve got another guys’ dick pressed against their ass, but it could be perfectly heteronormative beer, Sam can’t tell.

Sam can’t tell because Steve matches him drink for drink eating shitty popcorn and watching basketball with hipsters, and they don’t touch even once.Could be first date, or could be straight.Sam can’t tell because he’s having a beer with Captain Goddamn America, who punched Nazis with the Honorable Judge Gabriel Motherfucking Jones, who shook Sam’s hand when he graduated from Howard, and he’s not going to ask Gabe Nazi Punching Jones’ CO if he likes to top or bottom.Because Sam can’t tell _that_ either, and he’d have to have way more than four beers to think asking a straight man is a good idea.

* * *

Turns out six beers isn’t quite enough either, and maybe he’s a little drunk, but not that drunk, even if Steve does look pretty fucking good standing there under the street light in front of Sam’s house.  He puts the kick stand down and stands after Sam staggers off, almost like he’s waiting to be asked in, but.

“Thanks for this.For, uh, for coming out tonight,” Steve says, and Sam waits to get disappointed because goddamn does he look good blushing like that, fiddling with his keys and there’s no way Sam picked up a guy this good looking jogging.“It’s, uh, it’s been a while since my last date.”

And that’s—“Oh,” Sam says, because there it is.

“Oh god,” Steve says, and goes even redder.“I’m—uh.Sorry, I thought.Sorry.I didn’t mean to—I should go—“

“ _Steve_ ,” Sam says, and grabs him by the lapels to kiss.Too much teeth, because Steve’s clearly not expecting it and Sam didn’t exactly get the angle right either but that’s what second chances are for.Steve takes a shuddery breath and stares at him wild eyed when Sam backs off enough to readjust, and good goddamn he’s built like a brick wall because Sam tries to back him up against the motorcycle and he doesn’t budge an inch.“You want to come in?You should come in,” Sam says, and starts dragging Steve up the front step before he’s even done nodding.

Fucking keys are a lot more complicated than they need to be, Steve hot at his back with one big hand on Sam’s hip as he fumbles the deadbolt open.The house isn’t much less humid than outside, but Sam doesn’t have time to kick on the air conditioning because Steve spins him back against the door before it’s even closed and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing that’s happened to him since senior year marching band finals.Steve kisses clumsy, straight on and just as earnest as Sam thought he might be but with more teeth and too much nose in the way, hands frozen on Sam’s shoulders in the humid dark.

“Couch,” Sam breathes when he gets some space.“Couch.”Because six beers is not enough to put together a smooth game plan but who needs a plan when he’s got hands that big cupping his ass.

Steve goes down first and Sam has to wrestle his leather jacket off him because there have to be some standards, he’s not a barbarian.Steve gets the message and kicks off his shoes as his leather jacket gets tossed over the back of the couch, and then it’s back to business and goddamn are his shirts tight, he must have a tailor because there’s no way in hell the big and tall store sells shirts nipple straining tight off the rack.

Sam practically falls on top of him because why the fuck not at this point, Steve’s hard as hell if his parted lips and spread legs are anything to go by, and yeah, there it is as soon as Sam gets hands on him, holy shit.The Ikea couch might not survive the night, Sam might not survive, but what a hell of a way to die.He thinks for a half second about getting up to turn on a light so that he can remember better what he’s going to be jerking off to for the rest of his life until his dick catches up to his brain and Steve’s hands on his ass grinding him down and what the fuck does he need to see when he’s got Steve panting against his mouth.

Sam gets his hand around Steve’s hard thigh and pulls him closer, and goddamn he probably bottoms and loves it from the way he’s spread wide with Sam grinding into him and the lube’s all the way upstairs, and Sam can’t remember why he ever thought the guy whose lip he’s sucking was straight.Steve tugs on Sam’s shirt petulantly, pulling his undershirt out of where it’s tucked in and slides a broad hand up his back, the other trying to rock him into a rhythm.His hand is warm and his mouth is warm and goddamn his neck is warm when Sam goes to bite his neck.

Steve moans into it and curls up into Sam, high and almost pained.Sam backs off doublequick only to have Steve grab at his shirt and quickly let it go, and it doesn’t click for Sam until he realizes Steve is blushing to beat the band, because holy shit Sam just made Captain Goddamn America come in his pants.

“Sorry,” Steve says, and on a smaller man it would be a cringe but Steve’s so big he’s got nowhere to go.He can’t look Sam in the eye and all but squirms in the corner of the couch.“I—sorry.It’s been a while, I—“

“Baby,” Sam says, and cuts him off with a kiss.Steve makes a little squeak of surprise against his mouth.Because goddamn if Sam isn’t almost that close too, mostly high on Steve so flustered and tense.It’s been goddamn years since he made anyone come from just necking on the couch and even longer since he did himself.

Steve tries for subtle but just ends up with his elbow jammed into the couch cushions when he goes to palm Sam’s cock through his jeans, so Sam flips the cushion over the back of the couch and onto the floor.They might be necking like teenagers but Sam can fuck up his own house.No point to being an adult otherwise.

Still not quite enough room on the couch, but Steve strokes Sam through the denim, breath gone fast and a little ragged like he’s working on round two.Which—maybe?The rest of him is goddamn mathematical perfection, why not that too.Steve’s no more graceful with his hands than he is with his mouth, but it hardly matters because it’s been a while for Sam too.

Steve hisses a breath through his teeth when Sam nudges him away to get at his throat, and from the noise he makes it’s like no one ever thought to do this to him before.  

Sam’s hit with a sudden absurd wave of grief and worry that Steve Rogers died a virgin.

But then it suddenly doesn’t matter because Steve’s popping the button of Sam’s jeans and pulling his cock out past the elastic of his boxers, and Steve’s broad hand on his cock doesn’t leave room for any other thought besides sucking bruises on Captain America’s perfect throat and making sure he doesn’t die a virgin a second time, because if the thinking part of him is scared of the heavy responsibility of being someone’s first time, his dick can’t get enough of the idea of fucking this goddamn brick wall into the floor.He comes into Steve’s hand thinking of it, and he’s more guilty about that than he is about getting come on Steve’s flannel shirt, but Steve doesn’t seem to think anything of it, bumping his nose to Sam’s temple until he comes up to kiss.He still tastes like beer, and there’s more teeth clicking as Steve tries to bite back.

Sam struggles out of his own buttonup, heavy and warm in the syrupy humid dark, and hands it to Steve to wipe his hand.Steve takes it as Sam flops down next to him in just his tank undershirt, wrung out and ready to fall asleep right there on the wrecked couch.Steve seems sober, but he should at least offer before he completely conks out.

“You wanna stay the night?” Sam asks, and there it is again, that little catch of breath as Steve glances at him and then back down at his sticky hands, Sam’s shirt twisted between them.

“I should—probably go.Early meeting,” Steve lies, because tomorrow is a Saturday and they’d made plans to get coffee after jogging.Sam sits up and Steve leans away from him, just barely.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me either way, but—have you done this before?”

The way Steve flinches is enough, because he’s a terrible liar, Sam can see it in the dark.“Yeah,” Steve says, dropping Sam’s shirt on the floor.“Yeah, of course.”

“Man, it’s okay if you haven’t, I just want you to be comfortable and you don’t seem like you are.”

Steve sets his jaw, and Sam should have just left it alone.“I have, just not—this,” he says, gesturing at them on the couch.Sam glances at it, unsure what that means.

“Handjobs?” Sam asks, and kicks himself for making Steve cringe again.

“Kissing?” Steve says, trying to shrink into the couch like a much smaller man.Won’t look Sam in the eye.

“Baby, I—“ Sam says, and stops himself before reaching out.“Can I touch you?Can I put an arm around you?”

That gets Steve to look at him at least, but good or bad Sam can’t tell.Confused, mostly, which is better than the alternative.“I—yeah, of course,” Steve says.“Sam, I—um.I wasn’t raped.Or whatever you’re thinking.I’ve had sex, just not—relationships.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me—“

“It’s okay, it’s just—different, you know?” Steve says, and stands to move around the couch, making an escape.“I didn’t—uh—didn’t know most of my, um, most of my partners.Before.The bathhouse scene wasn’t like that then.”

“Bathhouse scene?” Sam says, and he can feel his face going hot, glad it’s dark.

Steve cringes again, avoiding Sam’s look as he scoops his jacket off the floor.Sam lets him, doesn’t want to make him more uncomfortable, uncomfortable enough himself for the both of them.“Look,” Steve says to the floor, “I got tested after, after Shield found me, but I understand, I understand if you’re not—if this.The guy I made time with—um, hooked up with, didn’t like it either, I get it—“

“Steve, Steve, wait,” Sam starts, making himself not grab as Steve goes to grab his shoes, definitely not looking at him now.Because even if Captain America having anonymous sex in public was harder to wrap his mind around than virgin or assault survivor, Steve’s body language is telegraphing something else loud and clear.If the bathhouse thing had been pre-war, and it almost had to have been, because Sam didn’t know that much history but the military hadn’t changed that much, basically everyone would have been bigger than Steve.Bigger, and mad, from the way Steve avoids his space and starts making for the front door.“Steve, I don’t care,” Sam says before Steve can make it that far.“I’m not gonna hurt you, I don’t care, all I care is if you want me in bed with you.”

Steve finally looks at him, shoes in hand.He looks young, too fucking young, the way the boys looked when they’d joined up and grown up too soon, and his shoulders are squared off like he’s expecting a fight.“You don’t care,” he says, voice flat.Not a question.More of a challenge.

“I care if you’re comfortable and want to be here,” Sam said again.With maybe a little challenge to match.“That’s all.”

Steve looks at his shoes in his hands for a long minute, and then he’s looking back at Sam, shoulders relaxing a fraction.“You don’t care,” Steve says again.

“Well,” Sam says, Steve tensing up again.“I care if you like pancakes, because omlettes are a pain in the ass and I’m not putting out cereal for the first date.”And the way Steve smiles at that, Sam does not get butterflies because Sam is a grown ass man who has to has to run up stairs and make sure there’s an extra tooth brush in the guest bathroom.


End file.
